


Hey, Neighbor, I wanna be your lover

by VKL42



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Getting Together, M/M, Pining, marius is sort of a plot device, sorry if this is horribly rushed, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 09:11:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2542142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VKL42/pseuds/VKL42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Courfeyrac is constantly borrowing things from his neighbor Combeferre, and Combeferre is just a little bit in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hey, Neighbor, I wanna be your lover

**Author's Note:**

> For [viva037](http://viva037.tumblr.com) for the 2014 Les Mis Trick or Treat exchange, who asked for "Courferre, room mates to lovers"
> 
> I ended up making them neighbors, not room mates, and I tried to include Eponine and Cosette too since you asked for them as well (plus I really love them too). 
> 
> ~~Essentially I used Marius as a plot device, so if Marius/Cosette isn't your thing you can kind of skim over that. I figured since they're canon it's ok to incorporate that ship~~

“Hey, uh, sorry to bother you…”

Combeferre looks to where his new neighbor leans in the open doorway, an adorable if slightly abashed smile on his face. Combeferre sets down his groceries and turns to face him fully.

“..but, could I possibly borrow some paper towels?”

Cute neighbor runs a hand through his hair, smile growing a little more abashed.

“I haven’t finished unpacking yet and I just spilled my cup of coffee, and well the one thing I cannot seem to find are my towels…”

The new neighbor shrugs his shoulders. Combeferre shakes himself out of staring at who is quite possibly the most adorable and attractive man he’s ever seen and forces his body to reply,

“Yea. Yea of course, let me just..”

Combeferre turns, enters his kitchen, and grabs a spare roll of paper towels, returning a second later. He hands it to the Very-Attractive-Man.

“Thank you so much, you’re a lifesaver, I’ll bring this right back—“  


“Don’t worry about it, you can keep it.”  


Very Attractive Man smiles even wider than he had been before, before saluting him with the towel roll and turning around to re-enter his apartment across the hall.  


It was another few minutes before Combeferre realizes he’s still standing in his own empty doorway. He shuts his door.

//

“My name’s Courfeyrac.”  


Once again Combeferre finds himself standing at his doorway with the Very Attractive Man—no, Courfeyrac—in his doorstep. Combeferre steps back and pulls the door all the way open, tugging on his “Dammit man, I’m a Doctor.” T-shirt and adjusting his glasses. His hair is a hopeless mess at this time in the morning; a mess he doesn’t even begin to think about. Especially since the man in front of him has to be the epitome of gorgeous, with a sinfully well-fitting pair of skinny jeans and artistically tousled hair.  


Combeferre clears his throat.  


“Come in.”  


Very Attractive Man— _Courfeyrac_ —does.  


“Oh, thanks. Um. I just popped across to see if you happened to have a screwdriver..?”  


“Yea, sure, let me just check. Uh do you want any tea… coffee?”  


“No, no. I’ve had probably one cup too many already. Bad habit of mine,” he says with what’s definitely a caffeine induced bounce in his step, “Thanks though.”  


Combeferre makes a noncommittal hum as he searches a closet for a screwdriver, totally oblivious to the suddenly appraising look that crosses Courfeyrac’s face as he bends over.  


“Aha, here you are.”  


Screwdriver in hand, Ferre presents his find to Courfeyrac.  


“You are a life saver,” Courfeyrac exclaims before planting a kiss on Combeferre’s cheek and taking the proffered screwdriver.  


Before Combeferre can say anything, or even wrap his mind around the tingling going on on his cheek where Courfeyrac’s lips had touched, Courfeyrac is bouncing out the door and back across the hall.

//

“You know, you never actually told me your name.”  


“Huh?” Combeferre intelligently responds (hey it’s been a long day at the hospital) before pulling together a more intelligent answer,  


“Oh, right, I’m Combeferre,” he sticks his hand out, which Courfeyrac shakes.  


“Well it’s nice to meet you Mr. Combeferre.”  


The handshake goes on a beat too long before Courfeyrac seems to shake himself out of a daze and say,  


“Sooooo, I know I’ve already bugged you twice, but,” and here he scrunches up his face— _adorably_ , Combeferre’s brain supplies, “you wouldn’t happen to have some sugar I could borrow? I’m baking my friend a cake for his birthday and I’m utterly out and have no time to run to the store. I mean, I’m already probably going to end up late and now I’m rambling. Sorry.”  


Courfeyrac stands there with a hopeful grin on his face.  


“Yea, sure, of course, here I’ll just,” Combeferre makes a vague gesture towards the inside of his apartment.  


“You are the **Best.** ”

//

This becomes a regular occurrence. Courfeyrac needs to borrow something and winds up across the hall to ask an all too happy to help Combeferre. Eventually it develops into an ‘open doors’ policy between the two of them, long since having moved from awkward neighbors to close friends, as if they’d known each other their whole lives. Movie nights become a regular deal, as does games night with a bunch of each of their friends (monopoly is banned from Courfeyrac’s apartment after a particularly extreme round ends with their mutual friend Enjolras threatening to disown Courfeyrac’s friend Marius, all while Combeferre’s friends Grantaire and Joly gleefully build hotels on Park Place and New York Ave, respectively).  


Combeferre becomes ‘Ferre and Courfeyrac becomes Courf’ and it is all rather sickeningly domestic to their friends; yet the both of them remain frustratingly oblivious to the other’s affections. 

//

“Hey, Ferre, do you have any—“  


“Milk’s on the top shelf.”  


“Thanks, babe!”

//

Combeferre doesn’t put much thought into Courfeyrac’s sweet nicknames, or gentle touches, or anything else, simply chalking it up to Courf’s tactile and loving nature.  


Courfeyrac, meanwhile, wonders why Combeferre isn’t getting his less than subtle _“I really really like you and want you to ask me out”_ act.

//

“Combeferre, I need to borrow you,” Courfeyrac announces seriously as he latches onto Ferre’s arm and drags him across to his own apartment.  


_Well this is a new one,_ Combeferre idly thinks, allowing himself to be dragged along behind Courfeyrac.  


“You’re a doctor right?”  


“Yes—“  


But Courfeyrac barrels on,  


“Because I need you to confirm my diagnosis.”  


Courfeyrac finally comes to a halt in front of a forlorn Marius, across from which an amused Eponine sits. Combeferre glances, half confused and half worried, between the three of them.  


“Marius has a serious case of, _love sickness_ ,” Courfeyrac chirps.  


Eponine looks like she’s trying very hard not to burst out laughing. Combeferre blinks twice, looking critically at Marius, before returning his gaze to Courfeyrac’s impish face.  


“Well, doctor?”  


A sly grin slips onto Combeferre’s face for a second before it vanishes and is replaced by a mask or ‘proffesionalism’.  


A few minutes later, after Combeferre has mock given him a check-up (he takes his pulse and checks his pupils, asks him to say ahh; Eponine snickers in the background), Combeferre turns to Courfeyrac once again,  


“Well, Nurse Courfeyrac, it seems your diagnosis is correct,” everyone knows about Marius’s epically huge crush on Cosette, “the patient is suffering from ‘Love Sickness’.”  


The charade is utterly worth it for the way Courfeyrac’s face lights up with gleeful delight—also because of the way Eponine falls out of her chair while trying to stifle her laughter.  


Marius mumbles something in what sounds like a mix of Italian and German, while trying to glare at the three of them (mostly he ends up looking like a sullen puppy).

Half an hour later they have Marius sitting up and sighing into a cup of tea.  


“Cosette’s just so _perfect_. It’s _hopeless_. I’m utterly in love with her…”  


A tentative knock on Courfeyrac’s living room doorway makes everyone freeze and turn around in seemingly slow motion. Marius’s eyes grow huge.  


“Um, hi. Eponine and I were going to go shopping… she said she was here, and well the door was open..”  


Cosette purses her lips shyly.  


Courfeyrac Coughs.  


Eponine jumps up,  


“Right, uh, just let me grab my stuff.”  


A pause before Marius speaks, having difficulty meeting her eyes,  


“Cosette, I don’t know what to say. Did you… hear all of that?” Marius winces.  


“Yes..” Cosette blushes, “and well.. that is… me too,” she finishes.  


Marius’s eyes snap up to her face.  


“So do you maybe want to get coffee this Saturday?” she asks.  


“Like a date?” Marius squeaks.  


“Like a date,” Cosette nods.  


“Marius, _say yes_ , your pining has been killing us,” Courfeyrac says.  


Eponine gives Courfeyrac an incredulous look,  


“Oh, good lord, his pining wasn’t half as bad as yours and Combeferre’s—” She claps a hand over her mouth.  


“What?”  


“What?!”  


Combeferre and Courfeyrac exclaim in unison.  


“Ohmygod,” Cosette whispers.  


Marius looks ready to bolt.  


After a far too long awkward minute, full of a furiously blushing Courfeyrac and a deer-in-the-headlights Combeferre, Eponine finally removes the hand from her mouth,  


“Ok, we’re just going to be going,” as she ushers Marius towards Cosette and the door.  


The door shuts behind them, leaving Courfeyrac and Combeferre alone in the apartment.

//

Incoming: Eponine [Did u kiss him?]  
Incoming: Eponine [Please tell me u kissed him]  
Incoming: Eponine [Because is2g Courf]  
Incoming: Eponine [if I have to endure anymore of u making bedroom eyes at him]  
Outgoing: [Ponine. I’m a little /busy/]  
Incoming: Eponine [ohmygod ur ttly making out rn rnt u]

//

Courfeyrac groans.  


“Just ignore the phone, Courf.”  


Combeferre sucks what will surely be a terrific hickey onto Courfeyrac’s collar bone.  


Courfeyrac groans for a whole different reason.  


“Yea, ok, that sounds like a _really_ good idea.”

//

“Ferre!?” A frantic looking Courfeyrac runs around their now shared apartment, tossing couch cushions and digging through drawers in a desperate search, “Ferre, I lost.. well I can’t tell you what it is… no no no… have you seen it?”  


“Courf, it’s ok you can just borrow—”  


“No, but I _can’t_ borrow—”  


“—this one.”  


Combeferre holds out his hand, upon which rests a small, velvet box.  


Courfeyrac halts, his eyes going huge,  


“Where did you.. _How_ did you…”  


Combeferre smiles softly,  


“Apparently I had the same exact idea as you.” A beat, “So, will you? Will you marry me?”  


Courfeyrac nods, too quickly; Combeferre reaches out to steady him.  


“Yes. _YES._ ”  


He throws his arms around Combeferre and buries his face in Ferre’s neck. Combeferre laughs and sways back and forth with Courfeyrac in his arms.

A short while later the two of them lie together in bed, hands clasped while Courfeyrac leans his head against Combeferre’s shoulder, examining the ring on his finger. Combeferre kisses his temple,  


“Your box is in your jacket pocket, by the way.”  


“Of course it is,” Courfeyrac laughs at himself good naturedly.  


The sound is nothing short of beautiful.

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me at my tumblr [toosmallortootall](http://toosmallortootall.tumblr.com).


End file.
